


Love is Like a Box Of Chocolate

by Sinbirdy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Worship, Bottom Hank Anderson, Couch Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Feeding, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Food Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Sex, Stuffing, Top Connor, Valentine's Day, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinbirdy/pseuds/Sinbirdy
Summary: Connor decides his hobby of the week is to learn how to cook - baking to be specific! So Valentine's comes up and Hank returns home to every type of dessert he could imagine, with Connor smiling over his work. Connor really didn't have any ulterior motive, but the strain of Hank's shirt buttons intrigues him…





	Love is Like a Box Of Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Twitter @Hanksdaddykink for more jibber-jabber. I have a secret Ko-Fi but you'll have to ask nicely for it...

Hank actually wasn't that heavy of a guy before Connor. Sure, alcohol had definitely given him a cushion of a belly, and the pecs developed in his 20s now seemingly hid behind a layer of fat, but he was about average give or take for a guy in his 50s.

Then Connor caught wind of Gavin's favourite show “The Great British Bake Off”, and it was he who had to be Connor's guinea pig for his latest obsession. He was just grateful that Connor made edible food unlike his ex wife.

(Caroline had a smile sweeter than a cupcake, but that woman couldn't cook for shit…)

Connor had tried a number of new hobbies since deviating - sewing, dancing, pottery, guitar, and now cooking. Hank didn't mind much, he found the sight of Connor pottering about in the kitchen in his apron rather endearing. He'd present Hank with whatever his daily grind was, and then practically feed him, hearts in his eyes and a smile as wide as humanly possible. Hank tries to always maintain a level of cynicism just to keep up his reputation, but it's hard when Connor looks at him like he's everything heavenly.

Hank tends to eat the entirety of whatever Connor cooks. Not in one sitting, but throughout the night, and usually packs it for tomorrows lunch at work too. His favourite is Connor's fudge brownies. He never lets them go to waste and he _never_ shares. Connor laughs because Hank resembles Sumo when he's hungry, just shovelling the food down to the point of feeling sick. Connor will find pieces of chocolate in his beard throughout the night and laugh when Hank eats them regardless.

Then, expectedly despite the shock he feels, Hank's clothes start to feel tight. His jeans cut into his hips and chaff the pink lines of new forming stretch marks alongside the old faded few, and he has to make the conscious decision to either tuck his belly into his jeans, or let it hang over like dead weight. His shirts hug his body embarrassingly tight, snug to every curve, and he hates how his chest now has plush, pushing against the ugly patterns of his shirts like cushions in an ill-fitting cover. He runs a hand down the extra plush of his figure and sighs, eventually moving on because quite frankly his appearance wasn't that big a deal to him anymore.

Still, working in clothes too small for him was a pain, and stretching out his jeans every once in a while when he sat just to let his gut breath was...embarrassing, to say the least. All the young cadets and detectives around were slim and sharp, even disaster case Detective Reed, but Hank was “ _chunky_ ”. Surrounded by sculpted bodies all day certainly further reflected the fact he was so unfit.

Nothing could prepare him though for Valentine's Day this year. When he walks into his home and see's Connor standing over a selection of rich, chocolatey confectioneries, his face beaming with pride, Hank is stunned. He'd had a long day at the station, looking into a drug den downtown and questioning a witness to a domestic abuse case, and all he wants is to come home and pass out, forget life outside of his home even existed. He completely forgot it was Valentine's Day. Connor is the picture perfect image of domestic bliss in his apron, a little flour or chocolate smudged against his skin somewhere, and a stretched smile all for Hank. He holds his hands to his chest and waits for Hank to speak first.

Hank hasn't a clue what to say. He steps forward and stands before the table full of food, eyes darting between each piece, and laughs under his breath. Eventually all he can say is, “I didn't get you anything.”

Connor waves his hand dismissively. “I do not want anything, Hank. I have you, and that's enough.

More silence. Hank looks at the delicious plate of brownies he recognises as his favourite treat, and his mouth begins to water. Connor truly had mastered the art of brownies - all the years he's been alive, he's never been fortunate enough to taste a dessert so beautifully crafted it left him both empty and full at the same time. The chocolate chunks that surprised him when they hit his teeth through the moist crumbling square, or the sheer delicacy that is the flavour, melting against his tongue and making him loopy with fauxed dopamine, it all blows Hank away.

“You didn't have to do all this, Connor,” Hank says, scratching the back of his neck. “It's too much.” He hasn't eaten in hours, actually, and as if on queue, a loud rumble from his stomach breaks between them, outing Hank's gluttonous shame.

Connor smiles, walking around the table. He puts his hand around Hank's waist and lightly pats his belly. “Nothing is too much for you, you deserve the world.” He kisses Hank gently on the cheek and returns to the kitchen, pulling out a plate from the oven. “I was keeping this warm for you. You can't eat dessert without an actual dinner.” And in his hands he presents a still piping hot burger from the one and only Chicken Feed. God, the smell pulls another whine from Hank's gut, he bites his lip.

“You're spoiling me, Con, I feel bad I didn't-”

“All I want is you happy. Eat up, then you can spoil yourself on desserts!” Connor hands him the plate and spins around to clean up the kitchen.

It's a little too cliche, Hank feels, watching his lover happily wait on him hand and foot, like a perfect doting housewife, but the smell of his burger is too enticing to object right then and there, so he sits at the sofa and devours the greasy food quicker than ideal. Hank isn't one for savouring, especially when he's hungry, so the burger is gone in a matter of minutes, finishing his conquest with a bassy burp that Connor takes as his queue to bring over some desserts.

“This is a deluxe chocolate and coffee cake, all for _you_.” Connor's voice is laced in seduction, Hank finds, and before he can question it, Connor's holding a slice of the gooey dessert to his lips. His body resting on Hank, one hand splayed on his belly, and Hank's surprised to feel something arousing about the moment. He doesn't say anything, but he chuckles under his breath, facing Connor and seeing his lidded eyes staring dreamily at him.

“What's with the excessive food, aye? You fattening me up for Thanksgiving?”

Connor rolls his eyes with a laugh. Hank leans in to take a bite from the cake, humming approvingly as he swallows the first bite and continues to eat out of Connor's hand. “I like to treat you, and it gave me a good excuse to practice my cooking. You do not have to eat my baking if you-”

“No, no, don't be a dope. I'll eat whatever you have.”

Honestly Hank doesn't think much of his intentions, which admittedly is because Connor has none. Hank zones out while watching bad television and eats the delicious treats Connor offers him, slice after slice, plate after plate, no complaints. They talk in between about cases at work, shows on TV, etc, and it's absolute perfection. Connor massages Hank's belly instinctively, loving the plush, helping him digest, and when he gets up for the third plate of desserts - the caramel cheesecake - Hank finally groans uncomfortably.

“I think I'm stuffed, Con.” Hank breathes, shifting as he tugs at the waistband of his jeans. Connor raises a brow as he sits down, putting the plate beside him.

“I'm sorry, Hank. Would you like to stop? I can wrap everything else up-”

“Did you expect me to eat it _all_ tonight?” Hank laughs, burping into his fist. Connor looks over at the array of foods he'd slaved over, and then back to Hank, eyes falling to his middle. Hank's gut strains against his shirt, the material creasing where his fat pushes against the struggling buttons. The plush of his belly now noticeably solid within its confines. Something stirs in Connor he's not sure off, fascinated in the pillowy weight of Hank's figure, and he feels a warmth grind through his wires, burning throughout his whole body.

He's hesitate to answer, but eventually does, acting coy. “Possibly. I like treating you. I suppose I got carried away and overestimated how much you could eat.”

“Woah, are you _challenging_ me?” Hank smirks as he sits up. He's being playful, cocking his brow, but the heat Connor feels in his wiring intensifies. He stutters, blinking rapidly as Hank stares him down, and before he can connect his thoughts, Hank wraps his arms around him and pulls Connor to lay on top of him, other hand grabbing the plate. Connor gasps, face flushing a tinge of blue, and Hank kisses him. “What's my reward if I eat it all?”

Connor's eyes bulge. “I had no reward in mind...I-I am unsure of how to take this...I, uh-”

“Relax. I'm just playing with you. Just feed me the damn cheesecake, yeah? I can handle one more plate.”

So Connor does. Tentatively, breaking off parts and placing them in Hank's mouth. His fingers linger for Hank to suck on, tongue gliding over Connor's sensors. Hank can see the arousal clear as day in Connor's face, and better yet can feel it rutting up against his leg. He likes it. He likes when Connor's timid because he doesn't understand sexuality in its full. He likes helping Connor discover his turn ons and pleasing him in ways no one else would truly appreciate. Every bite Hank takes seems to make Connor's LED flash, and Hank begins to wonder if maybe deep down in his A.I he knew exactly why he cooked so much…

Nevertheless, when the cheesecake is gone, Hank can't help but groan, grinning. Connor's weight pressing down on him encourages his stomach to whine audibly. Connor's face from his ears all down his neck are burning blue, and whether he realises, he's biting his lip and still bucking his hips softly against Hank like a horny teenager.

Hank pushes them both up and exhales, rubbing his belly. He can see out the corner of his eyes Connor just staring at him, but he pretends otherwise. Connor _really_ likes Hank belly, huh? In retrospect it wasn't that shocking - Connor often used Hank as a human pillow and loved kissing his pouched stomach when they were intimate, so why wouldn't he get off to making Hank bigger? Come to admit it, something about the idea turns on Hank, too.

Connor gets up and rushes over to grab the plate of brownies - Hank's ultimate favourite, and his weakness when it came to food. He returns and sits up beside Hank, putting the brownies in his lap before wrapping his arms around him. Hank looks down at the plate and chuckles, shaking his head though he knows he can't deny them.

“I think I've come to realise something,” Connor keeps his composure as he speaks, hands dancing down Hank's front, bumping over the individual straining buttons. “I am attracted to your weight.”

“Oh yeah? You into fat guys?” He laughs, hand rubbing the bottom of his gut, still agonisingly stuffed into his jeans. Connor licks his lips and smirks, shuffling closer. Hank watches as Connor's hands stroke over his body - those delicate, long fingers contrasting with his broad figure, adoring him. He watches as Connor starts from the top and pops the buttons of his shirt, revealing the light tufts of his chest hair, and continues all the way down. Every release is freeing for Hank, all the while contributing to the strain now obvious between his legs, and eventually his shirt is pulled either side of him, revealing the pain of his jeans digging into his fat.

Connor looks up at him under his eyelids, and begins to unbutton his pants. The light brush of his knuckles against his skin makes Hank stutter an inhale.

“I like how your body contrasts with mine.” He unzips his fly and slowly grips the denim of his pants. The button pops but Connor holds them together, staring deep into Hank's eyes, loving how he's eagerly awaiting the release. He looks back down and finally let's go, watching as Hank's belly floods forward out of his jeans and fills his lap. As the relief ripples through his rolls, Hank moans. Connor rests his hand on Hank's belly and gently pushes. “I like taking care of you and seeing my effects on you. I...is it normal to feel this way?”

Hank rolls his neck and rests back against the sofa. His hand rests on the rim of his gut beneath his pecks, and the other wraps around Connor's waist. “Turned on? Nah, it's flattering. Everyone's got their kink. What is it you like, baby?” Hank asks, taking Connor's hand on his belly. He guides it below his gut and lifts the weight, dropping it suddenly to watch his skin ripple. Connor inhales suddenly, fascinated. “Cause this is all yours.”

That phrase does something to Connor. He hunches his shoulders forward as he moans, and buries his face into Hank's neck. He doesn't understand why he's so hot, but seeing Hank pig out, his body heavy from his greed, it does something animalistic to him.

“Come on, Con,” Hank nudges Connor, kissing his cheek. “What do you want? Just tell me…”

Connor hesitates, then sits up. “I want you to ride me, please? Would that be okay?”

Hank can't believe how sweet his boyfriend is. In what world is nervousness so sexy? Hank decides to take charge and lay Connor back, shaking his pants down to reveal his erect cock, and in turn shimmies out of his own pants. It's awkward, the width of the couch doesn't quite take Hank's size or libido into consideration, but he makes it work. He straddles Connor's waist and reaches between the pillow cushions for the lube he keeps down there (because they were still at that stage of fucking everywhere in the house, running to the bathroom for lube killed the mood).

As he lathers up his fingers to open himself, Connor sits up on his elbows and takes one of the brownies in his hand, shoving it toward Hank. The sloppy sounds of Hank's fingers opening his hole don't harmonise wonderfully with Hank's gurgling gut, but it's still music to Connor's ears. Hank doesn't hesitate to scarf down the food, moaning as the chocolate melts in his mouth and he hits his prostate. Connor plays with Hank's belly, his cock throbbing, dripping down on Connor's stomach, and as he jiggles Hank's fat, he hums at the back of his throat.

Pieces of chocolate fall into Hank's beard and down his body as he fucks himself, and soon he's ready. Pulling out of his ass, he aligned with Connor's cock and shakes his ass, watching as Connor tenses.

“You want to keep feeding me?” Hank asks through a breath. Connor nods eagerly and picks up another brownie. He sits up to rest on the arm of the couch, now eye level with Hank's chest, and he pushes the moist brownie against Hank's lips. Hank sinks down onto Connor's cock and takes a generous bite of the treat, moaning loudly as pleasure envelopes his body in so many ways.

“Is this okay?” Connor whispers, already steadily bucking up. His hand rubs Hank's engorged stomach while the other continues to feed him, and Hank _loves_ the attention. He starts to shift, a hand on the back of the sofa to keep him stable, and he nods.

“Baby, do whatever you fucking want, Kay?” Hank says through bites, swallowing down the chocolate. His thighs burn but everything feels so good, having his stomach lifted and rolled in Connor's hands while his cock hits his prostate over and over again gently.

They find themselves a solid rhythm after a while with Hank grinding down on Connor and eating out the palm of his hand, making a mess as crumbs comb through his beard.

Hank can't help but follow each bite with a pathetic groan, whether it be from his mouth or his stomach. Connor absolutely loves it, kissing his chest when he leans forward to feed him, and he massages Hank’s taunt skin. No matter the strain, he presses onwards with his quest, filling his gluttonous self to satisfy Connor's sinful lust. His usually squishy belly is firm as a bolder to touch. His breathing becomes a chore to find, though there is a heavenly bliss in Connor's padded fingers tenderly pressing into his skin.

Connor's hardwiring feels like it's literally on fire-- he's never quite known arousal like this before. He still isn't sure why it turns him on so much, but he's utterly obsessed with Hank's body. All the white stretch marks that have faded into his body now intertwined with new pink ones, and his chest tattoo stretched across his doughy pectorals, shaking as he rides Connor. Connor pushes his fingers through the hairs going up his belly to his navel, and even experimentally slides his finger in the deep hole. Hank noticeably winces at the intrusion, but his hips also pick up their speed, becoming messy, and Connor can't resist using the belly button as a tool to shake his weight more aggressively.

“You're beautiful, Hank.” Connor moans, taking another brownie for Hank and feeding him. “Your body is...is...I love your stomach.”

Hank can't help but laugh as he chews. He runs his hand through his hair, and finishes the treat. “You treat me good, baby. You noticed I been gaining a few pounds?”

“My internal sensors had picked up on it, yes.”

“And you like it?” Hank teases, deliberately squeezing his pecs together to squish the fat on his chest. Connor's hips pick up like a jackhammer, fingers digging deeper into Hank's skin.

“Yes,” Connor mumbles, an electric bolt of shame spiking through his spine. Hank smirks wickedly.

“Tell me 'bout it baby,” Hank leans over to lay flat on Connor as he picks up another brownie from the plate on the floor. Squashed beneath his full weight, Connor's eyes roll back into his head and he moans loudly. Hank sits back up and shoves the brownie in his mouth, holding another in his other hand.

Hank uses his fist to stifle his belches, which in turn stirs up a storm of loud gurgles from deep in his gut. Connor presses his fingers into his skin, the angry sounds protesting his actions, but Hank's hips continue to rock enthusiastically, loving Connor's admiration.

Connor's hands wander to glide over Hank's thick thighs. He grips the meat of his inner thigh and licks his lips. “You're so soft...so strong…I…” Connor can't bare the sound of his own voice, though there's so much he has to say. He takes a deep inhale of his artificial lungs, and tenses his shoulders. “I want you bigger.” And as the words leave his mouth, he panics. His LED whirls red and he blinks rapidly, avoiding Hank's line of sight.

Though Hank likes the confession. He chews his bottom lip and takes his cock in his hand, pumping furiously. Connor's hands continue to hold his legs. Hank's moans start to unravel into nonsense as he feels his orgasm build in his abdomen.

“Big enough to bust your bolts?” Hank's jokes, though his teasing is cut off by his own growl of arousal. Connor looks up from under his shame and smiles, and in turn picks up his pace.

The speed aids in shaking Hank's body, his belly sloshing as he rides Connor, and before he knows it he cums with a sharp inhaled moan, cum spurting over Connor's chest. The sight sends Connor over the edge as he empties into Hank, arching his back and lifting Hank's heavy self up with his hips. Hank holds onto the sofa in shock as he goes upward.

After a lot of panting, Connor helps Hank off his cock and sits him back on the sofa beside him. Eventually Hank finds the will to hoist himself up and clean himself. The feeling of cum dripping down his thighs makes him scoff. He leans on the wall in the hallway and spreads his legs, calling Connor to look as he shows him his leaking hole.

“Fucking gross, right?” He laughs. Connor shakes his head and begins cleaning up the mess on the couch.

“I'll get you some clean towels.” He says as he throws their clothes in the washing up basket. However, Hank grips his wrist before he can enter the bedroom and pulls him close, kissing him passionately that Connor melts against his body. Hank's gut still protests with how full it it, and although still soft to touch, it definitely holds a strength of sturdiness now after so much stuffing, Connor forms around the curve. As Hank pulls away, he brushes back Connor's hair and smiles.

“Wanna try that again sometime?” Hank asks, though the giddy smile on Connor's face is enough of an answer.

“If you would not mind, yes. I thoroughly enjoyed... _that_.”

“Yeah, me too. Happy Valentine's Day, Con.” Hank kisses him softly on the forehead and leaves to enter the bathroom, running the shower. Connor watches as Hank climbs into the bath, his body glistening as the water hits him.

“Happy Valentine's Day, lieutenant.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Next time on my writing adventures: Hank wears a dress and Connor eats his ass real good 👌


End file.
